


Touch, Feel, Hold

by Vanillabeanwinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Not finished... I think, Sometime during season 5, Unrequited Love, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 15:22:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4671584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanillabeanwinchester/pseuds/Vanillabeanwinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas pops in with a surprise that Dean isn't sure what to do with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch, Feel, Hold

**Author's Note:**

> So I had this wingfic idea that I just had to get out. So yeah, I'm not really sure where I'm going with this, or at all, but here ya go :)
> 
> I also don't have a beta, so all mistakes are my own

“Hello, Dean”

The moment Cas flew in Dean’s eyes widened. Well, it was just after the asscrack of dawn, and Dean hadn’t caught a blink of sleep, and maybe it was the double cups of motel crap coffee, but he swore he could see them. Giant cascading black feathers that spanned at least ten feet, flourishing a few feet above Cas’ shoulders and the end feathers just dragging across the floor. _They were_ beautiful, Dean thought in awe. He mentally slapped himself and winced at his wording. _Ethereal and powerful_ , he amended. They seemed to be emanating light, captivating and jaw-droppingly so.

Cas caught Dean’s eyes and turned his head, which was totally not distracting or adorable in anyway. Screw his brain.

“Dean, are you okay?” Cas asked.

Dean blinked. He hadn’t realized how close to Cas he’d gotten, only a few feet in comparison to the ten he was at before. He swallowed thickly and took a small step back, eyes still locked with Cas’.

“Yeah, ‘course,” He replied and busied himself with making his third cup of joe, purposefully not looking in Cas’ direction. Dean eyed the whiskey on the counter, but thought better of it. 7 am is not a good time for whiskey, however much he wanted to calm the jitters in his hands.

“Woah!” Another voice shouted. “Cas! Your-you have wings!?”

So, Sammy’s awake. Dean grabbed the Jack Daniels and his cup off the counter.

Dean turned around to see his brother sitting up in bed, his face a mix of bewithered to be woken up to that sight and wonder. Cas simply scrunched his eyebrows.

“Well, yes, I’ve always had them, Sam,” Cas grumbled. “I am an angel after all.”

Dean snorted. Whoever thought an angel of the lord would develop sarcasm. Another reason he was falling. Developing human humor, not a good sign. He took a sip of his spiked coffee.

“Uh, sorry, I mean,” Sam stuttered, rubbing a hand through his hair. “I’ve just never seen them before.”

Cas blinked hard and tried to turn around. The angel made a small sound, almost shocked when he saw the long black feathers. It reminded Dean of a dog chasing its' own tail and he fought back a laugh. Cas stretched the wings out then and they fluttered a little before turning back to the brothers.

“Oh, uhm, I’m very embarrassed,” He said as his ears flushed pink. Dean took another long swig out of his cup. “Normally I keep them in another plane of perseption, out of reach of humans. I wasn’t aware I was showing them.”

Sam grinned and slid out of bed to get a closer look. Dean huffed at seeing his little brother in just his skivvies, in front of an angel of the lord no less, but Sam didn’t seem to notice.

“Dude, it’s totally fine. They’re amazing! Do they always look like this? Why can we see them now? Can I touch them?” Sam circled around Cas and gaped in awe at the feathers. Sam didn’t even think about how close he was getting to the angel, but Dean could see how uncomfortable Cas was getting at the closeness. The tips of the feathers rustled in anxiousness, even though Cas’ face remained as stoich as ever. Dean smiled around his next sip, amused that Cas’ wings were giving away the emotions that he thought he was keeping so well hidden. Then Sam raised a hand as if to touch them and the wings visibly shivered. 

“Sam!” Dean quipped, not wanting Cas to feel uncomfortable. If he had wings, he wouldn’t want someone touching them. It’d be like stroking his arm or something. Yeah, that’s the reason he yelled.

His brother pulled his hand away quick, shooting him a surprised and slightly pissed look. Then he looked at Cas and took a step back. He coughed and winced at how close he was.

“Uh, sorry, Cas, they’re just really cool. Didn’t notice how close I got,” Sam said, rubbing his own arm subconsciously. Cas smiled softly and readjusted his wings slightly.

“It is fine, Sam. I would be curious, too, if I were to see them for the first time.” The angel said kindly. Dean harrumphed. That was a little more than just curiosity, he thought, amused. Sam was giving those wings the once over. Sam looked over at Dean then, and frowned.

“Dean, aren’t you the least bit shocked? You’ve been sitting over there this whole time, doing nothing.” Sam said petulantly.

“Well at least I’m not feeling up an angel of the lord, Sammy.”

“Whatever, I’m gonna take a shower, jerk,” The younger Winchester grabbed his clothes and stomped his way into the bathroom.

“Bitch,” Dean replied easily, putting his now-empty cup in the trash. When he looked up, Cas was looking at him. One of those looks that said “Winchesters are weird things. I don’t understand humans.” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“So, do I need to go out and kill more sons-of-bitches before breakfast or did you just pop in to flaunt your pretty wings.” Dean said, wincing at his wording immediately, hoping Cas let it drop.

Cas simply looked at Dean quizzically before speaking. “Dean,” He started firmly. Dean swallowed hard at the gruffness of the angel’s voice saying his name. “You can look at my wings if you would like. I do not mind.”

Damn, Cas and his attentiveness. It was true, Dean had been avoiding looking directly at them during the whole Sam/Cas exchange and had continued to avoid Cas’ eyes afterwards. He sighed and turned to face the angel. The wings were still magnificent, but he refused to take more than one eyeful. They were just too amazing. Dean didn’t trust himself not to run over to the angel and take a handful of black feathers. Or something worse. He cursed his libido and its ability to get roused at stupid times. He met Cas’ steady gaze.

“There you happy, now? I’ve officially stared at your angel wings like a creep.” Dean huffed. “Did you actually need our help with something?”

He was taken aback when Cas actually _rolled his eyes_ , that _fucker_. The angel took a step closer to him and his wings turned up, the wings fluffing slightly.

“Dean,” He said simply, that gravelly tone making Dean’s stomach flip like he was 13 all over again. Dean sighed and lifted his eyes to take in the sight before him. Scruffy face, hair, and trenchcoat and full set of beautiful wings. Something he could look at forever, if he was allowed. But that would most definitely not pass for acceptable with an angel of the lord, so he forced his eyes away and onto the bed behind him.

Cas shifted. “Are they not acceptable?” He asked quietly. “I know most of my garrison have bright, colorful wings and these are not the most appealing.”

Dean would have laughed at Cas’ question if not for the confused look on his face. Dean grunted, was Cas fishing for compliments? “They’re great, Cas,” He replied, quickly feeling more and more awkward at the conversation. _Not the most appealing_ , his ass, they were damn _gorgeous_. Didn’t mean Dean was gonna tell him that. Sam was sure to get out of the shower, soon anyways. And he was hungry. Yeah focus on that. Hot pancakes and syrup. Not the six feet of self-conscious angel with fucking appealing wings in front of him. Dean met his eyes again, this time not turning away. Aw man, they were gonna do the staring thing again. Where Cas stares deeply into Dean’s soul and tries to figure out if he’s telling the truth and Dean tries to decide whether to glare at the other man or simply get lost in his big, blue eyes.

Before he can decide, Cas seemed to have found whatever he was looking for and smiled. Not the small half smile he gives most of the time, but a full faced gleam, crinkling eyes, white teeth, the whole shebang. Dean’s heart did jumping jacks in his chest before melting.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said reverently, like Dean just saved his baby or something. He refused the urge to roll his eyes or to blush.

“Yeah, well,” He said gruffly. Cas just continued to stand there, happy as a clam, and silence settled palpably. Sam’s shower was still running in the bathroom and someone slammed a car door outside the motel door.

Dean’s eyes shifted back to the black feathers again, giving up on keeping his eyes away. Great didn’t even begin to cover it. Wow, Dean, he thought bitterly. 12th grade English really did a number on your vast vocabulary, huh. Great. No, they were powerful and elegant, so ethereal that they didn’t seem real, but they were, hanging off of the angel in a shitty motel in the middle of Buttfuck, Nowhere. That kind of beauty didn’t belong in sleazy motels and around dirt and grime and death. Dean's stomach rolled. 

Unconsciously, though, Dean’s hand raised slowly, as if all on its own it thought it was a good idea to touch the wing or something equally as fucking stupid. Cas’ eyes tracked the movement, not moving. But once they got within a hair’s breadth of the outermost feathers, Cas hitched a breath and the black feathers shook and dropped away from his fingers sharply. Dean grabbed his hand back quickly like it had been burned, ears bright with embarrassment and shame. Cas stared at him, clearly surprised by either by Dean’s audacity or his own actions. _That damn head tilt._

“I’m sorry,” The angel started and then shut his mouth, searching for his next words. “It’s just no one has ever touched them, well besides a few of my brother’s and sister’s for grooming, of course.” Of course. Like Dean would’ve known. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. It’s just that- wings are personal and-well normally touching wings is for-uhm.”

Castiel flushed and his wings fluttered slightly, obviously distressed. It was odd, the angel was never tongue tied.

“For…?” Dean supplied.

“For, well, mates-and-” Cas closed his mouth and looked passed Dean, over his shoulder then, ears burning red. Dean’s confused for a moment, and then it dawns on him. He knew Cas isn’t really interested in the blank wall behind him, he just didn’t want to finish the awkward train of thought.

 _And you aren’t my mate_ , Dean’s brain bitterly finished for him. He tried to ignore why that makes him so angry. _And you’d never be his mate. Him not looking you in the eye means that. It means that you’ll never get to feel how absolutely soft the feathers look. It means that someday, someone else is going to come along, someone who would be allowed to touch Cas’ wings. And make Cas feel happy._ Dean pushed past the angel and started to pack his bag for the day ahead. They can go out for breakfast and start interrogating some of the locals then. Maybe they’ll stop at the Mom and Pop diner he noticed as they drove in. It seemed quiet and one for passer-bys. A place where no one would ask too many questions.

His brain doesn’t shut up though, not even when he tried to divert the thoughts to the current hunt. _He wouldn’t want you as a mate anyways_ , the voice in his head continues. It’s beginning to become familiar, from a time where he spent time on a rack and where all he heard were screams for years and years. He shivered slightly, even if it was the middle of summer and beginning to hit record breaking heat at seven am. _Filthy human. You’d would taint those beautiful wings. Such disgusting and vile creatures, so much lower than angels. Even falling angels who refuse to acknowledge the rumbling in their stomach, who eats reluctantly, but gets excited over burgers and always asks for pie afterwards. Angels who sleep on the occasional car ride between hunts, mouth open and cheek flat against the window, but denies it ever happened if it gets brought up. He’s not supposed to do that, though. He’s not supposed to be funny or snarky or start to understand why Led Zeppelin and AC/DC are important or appreciate Baby. He’s falling because of you, Dean,_ it continued gleefully. _He’s going total recall and you’re the main cause. You fuck up everything you touch. That’s why you can’t touch those beautiful, angelic wings of his. You’ve got Hell’s scars and they’ve made you dirty. You’ve ruined enough things, don’t ruin this one._

Ignoring the burning desire to grip the glossy feathers and never let go, Dean kept his eyes down. _They look so soft_ , his brain added. He tells it to take a hike.

Dean cleared his throat, trying to diffuse the awkward situation and to keep the self-depreciating thoughts from getting any louder. Cas may be falling, but he still has enough mojo to read Dean’s private thoughts, if he wanted to. Once he hears the shudder of the water turning off in the bathroom and his bag is full, Dean turned to the angel, taking a breath before meeting those burning eyes. Dean nodded his head towards the door and then grabs the keys off the table.

“Let’s go get some grub, I’m starving,” He stated, pretending that the tension in the air isn’t thick enough to cut through. “Come on, you can sit in the front if you get there before Sammy gets out of the bathroom.” Dean huffed a breath and totally didn’t beeline for the door. And he certainly didn’t smack his head and then his palm on Baby’s steering wheel, trying to forget the confused and almost hurt look on Cas’ face as he left. He swallows away the burning guilt rolling around in his gut for running out on the other guy. Maybe some food will do him some good, get his mind off of things.

Sam gives him a thoughtful look as he gets in the back and Cas joins the seat next to him in a flutter of wings. But even though he can’t see them, the desire to _touch, feel, hold_ only grows stronger. Suddenly he doesn’t feel very hungry anymore.


End file.
